The Grocery Clerk_Where GrandMama Sleeps_A HORRIBLE RECONCILIATION_Egg Race
Catalog Guide:
The Grocery Clerk
I have arrived at work for another day of being a cashier. There are certain aspects of my job I truly enjoy but then again here comes Mrs. Highsmith to my checkout stand. She always lets her kids open the chips eat them and hide the bag before paying. Today I am going to tell her its company policy to pay for all goods before consumption. Hi Mrs. Highsmith. Hello Sandra. Steph sit down. Roger leave your sister alone. Margie get out from under the basket immediately. Did you hear me Margie? Don't make me call your name again. Mrs. Highsmith your kids have... Yes, Sandra. Stop it Steph. You are...
Where GrandMamawww.onedoor.cc Sleeps
When I was brought into the world, novice and all, it was assigned to me a family of five turned six when chogo (lastborn) was born five years later after I. Life was big when I was small: our small kibanda (hut) near the never not smelly river seemed a mansion.The large population from non-stop procreation in the area allowed me to have as many alter egos; not being aware of what they called such places – rookeries, even worse, jhuggi.All houses, though we rambled on and on about living in the big city, were made of matope (mud). The only exception was the church, which was made of corrugated...
A HORRIBLE RECONCILIATION
I am so excited that finally I will have both my family and my husband's family come together as one. The petty fights were definitely unnecessary and I'm glad we realized it soon. I am ready to put everything behind and start afresh with everyone. I grew up in a dysfunctional home. My dad cheated on my mum countless times and I have siblings that I do not know about. I'm determined to make sure my children have a good home and grow up in a stable household and this dinner is the start of something new. My husband and I got married despite our families being against it. My parents were pro-bla...
Egg Race
In eighth grade, we used to have these egg races. Each week, Mr. Michel would give us an egg. On Friday, we would come up with a contraption that would keep the egg from breaking if it fell. Then we would sprint while holding the egg in one hand. The lesson was supposed to be on ethics. Balance. Care.I never had any of them. Every single time, the bright yolk would sink onto the blades of grass. Every time, I would bend over, under the hot Utah sun and swear under my breath. My hands would be clammy and my eyes would feel close to crying as the egg whites spewed out of the shell.I was never go...